Nerves threatened to suffocate Silvestre, they clung to her chest and squeezed her thundering heart- or maybe it was just the tight corset? Evelyn adjusted Silvestre's gown once more, sweeping her delicate hands over the fine silk.
"All ready Silvestre" She said, satisfied.
Silvestre rolled back her shoulders, lifted her chin and took a deep breath, before nodding to the guards to open the huge doors.
A beautiful symphony of strings played as Silvestre slowly strode down the aisle, a colourful crowd of well dressed people stood up to welcome the Princess of Camelot; most of whom Silvestre hardly knew.
As the music quietened, Silvestre knelt on the cushion before the throne. Her gaze cautiously moving to her left where the King and her brother sat. Neither of them gave a nod of encouragement or a warm smile, instead she received a cold glare from her brother, Albert.
Don't mess this up Little Sister.
His piercing blue eyes, shooting arrows, his tall lanky body forced into a knife straight posture and his dark hair neatly combed into position. Albert's features mirrored those of the King, a younger, more sour version. Silvestre almost despised Albert for all his resemberlance to her father, for she had nothing. Her face was the memory of a dead woman. Her mother. The face her father couldn't even bare to glance at.
A loud cough silenced the murmurs of the room, bringing attention to the croaky voice of the old man.
"Thank you all for coming. We are here today to witness the crowning of Silvestre Pendragon, second Heir of Camelot." His voice was hoarse and tired. "Do you accept the
responsibility?" He questioned.
"I do." Silvestre recited.
"If the King or the Prince are unable to take the thrown, will you accept the Kingdom of Camelot and rule fairly as queen?"
"I will." Silvestre vowed. Pride, hope, love, excitement: the feelings pumping through her as she said the words, like blood in the arteries. Her hands began tingling, she tightened her fist in attempt to conceal the joyful sparks on her finger tips.
"Will you obey all the laws of Camelot?"
All the laws? Silvestre thought. A tight pang of guilt stabbed at her hands, cutting and tearing at the flesh.
Law 221 - Magic is not permitted within the Kingdom of Camelot. Will result in the death penalty.
The heat died from her palms as she dug her nails into the skin, if they knew...
"I promise to always act with Camelot's best intentions. " Silvestre countered. The old man's eyes creasing in confusion,
"Will you obey all the laws of Camelot?" He repeated. Silvestre hesitated, a short, deafening silence rang through the room.
"I will. " She lied.
Silvestre kept her head steady as she accepted the weight of her curse and the crown upon her head.
***
After the crown was gently placed on Silvestre's head, the crowd promptly proceeded through the doors of the throne room, eager to get to the feast. Silvestre attempted to move with the body of people, making polite conversation with the guests but Albert was like a snake, hissing at her heels,
"What is that?" He scorned, a vivid image of disgust painted on his face. Pulling her aside, he grabbed at the quartz pendant resting around Silvestre's neck.
"No!" She exclaimed as he broke the chain, leaving it limp in hand.
"Where did you get this?" He demanded.
" I found it."
Albert toyed with the pendant, "Its mother's."
"Its rightfully mine." Silvestre snarled,
"You're not her. You'll never be anything like her. You're just a Little girl playing with the grown ups" he sneered, "If father sees you with it he'll-"
"He'll what?" Silvestre asked, her fury rising. Albert didn't reply, he merely sniggered and threw the necklace into the crowd, Silvestre launched forward but Albert had grasped her wrist,
"Princesses don't scramble on the floor." And with that he strutted off to join the King.
Flames flickered between Silvestre's fingers.
Stop. They stopped. Her eyes lingered on the floor where her precious pendant has been trampled on and swept away.
Breath in... breath out...
She reminded herself of who she was and followed through the doors, picturing the Prince's hair on fire.
She had a crown on her head and powers that would terrify the whole of the Kings court.
***
Mingling - mix or cause to mix together
In Silvestre's case it actually meant talking to people she didnt want to talk to, dancing with people she didn't want to, and being bored to death.
"You do look very beautiful tonight, I suppose you're looking for a husband?"
"You look very beautiful Princess."
"This is my son Henry."
The usual, boring introductions and people throwing compliments like confetti.
"Just like your mother." That stung. In a bittersweet way.
Currently, Silvestre was hiding in the corner, a glass of wine in her hand, pretending to be occupied,
" Hello Silvestre, you look beautiful tonight" said a voice. Turning, Silvestre saw Almore, one of the knights, he had a strong, heavy build and his cheeks were pink (probaly too much wine) but his eyes were warm and friendly,
"Almore, if someone says that again I will have no choice but to grab a weapon and challenge them. I feel empty without a sword at my waist!" She laughed.
"I'd offer you mine but we all know how dangerous you are with a weapon" he winked.
" Now that is a good compliment."
They continued a light talk about the new knights before Almore was wisked off by Trion and Riko.
A man was playing a beautiful melody on the flute and another playing a fiddle in harmony, Silvestre was smiling as people danced and colours flashed around the ball room, she could even see Florette and Evelyn swaying to the waltz, hooked arms, singing happily. She was admiring the dancing from a distance when someone lightly tapped on her shoulder,
"I knew you were smart and brave but I wasn't aware you were a Princess!"
She spun.
"Milo." She gasped, "What in God's name are you doing here!? What if someone recognises you!?"
"Don't worry, its a memory charm, no-one other than you will recognise me." He explained. Impressive.
" Now, if I may, will Princess Silvestre care for a dance?" He inquired, bowing low and offering his hand, he had a brilliant white smile and as Silvestre took his hand she couldn't help but grin like an idiot.
Who was this mysterious boy?
Silvestre let the rhythm of the music flow through her, as Milo placed a hand on her waist and began to dance to the waltz:
1, 2, 3, 1, 2 , 3
The steady beat. Silvestre twirled and laughed as they danced, her hair escaping in childish wisps down her back,
"So, my Lady, you can pick a lock, be a princess, dance and-"
Silvestre raised a finger to his lips, her nervous eyes darting to where the King stood,
" You shouldn't be here." She whispered, "You can't be here."
The music stopped and Silvestre gestured towards a spiral staircase, "Come this way," she beckoned, lifting her gown as she twisted her way to the top of the staircase. A cool wind welcomed them to the castle walls, a starry night lay like a blanket over the world. For a moment or two, they walked in silence appreciating the speckles of light from the city below. A young couple giggled and danced in the moonlight, when they saw Silvestre they smiled innocently as her and Milo continued to walk in comfortable silence.
"I believe this is yours Princess." Milo said, unfolding his hand to reveal the rose quartz pendant, the moonlight bounced of its edges as he handed it to Silvestre.
"Thank you." She said, confused. "It was my mother's." Why was she telling him this? She didn't know. "She died in child birth. My brother resents me and my father..."
"I'm sorry." Milo replied.
"Don't be. Lots of women die in child birth. It happens."
Silvestre's mother was in the past. A greatly loved queen, but long gone. Milo seemed to understand and changed the conversation.
"You have magic." He stated.
"Yes, not much. The curse of satan." She answered, creating a burning orange flame of her palm. Milo ran his index finger over the dancing light and twisted the flames into a powerful dragon.
"It's not a curse. It's a gift."
Silvestre clenched her fist and the fire went out in a sharp blast.
"You can't stay here. I wish you could but you can't. " Silvestre cautioned, placing her hands against the wall and gazing into the night, "If I were queen, things would be different."
"Well My Lady, Camelot's a good Kingdom and anyone can keep a secret." He smiled. Silvestre cocked her head and looked at him, 'most secrets don't result in a death sentence' but instead she replied,
"My friends call me Silvestre."
"Am I a friend?" Milo asked.
"You have potential."